


Tales of the Defeated

by bonehandledknife (ladywinter)



Series: Tumblr Ficlet Liferaft [11]
Category: Mad Max Series (Movies)
Genre: Gen, Worldbuilding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-11
Updated: 2018-12-11
Packaged: 2019-09-16 06:15:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16948566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladywinter/pseuds/bonehandledknife
Summary: written for five wives week on tumblr—“So, Max, have you heard any new stories out there?”“Good ones only.”





	Tales of the Defeated

“So, Max, have you heard any new stories out there?”

“Good ones only.”

“They’re all real good though!”

“Some more good than others, then.”

“Mmm, well. There’s this one…”

_They call them the Four Riders of the Apocalypse, because who knew what a Horse was anymore?_

_(a thing that brings war)_

_(a value that weighs the V8)_

_(an animal good to eat, an old man says, but nobody believes him)_

_Besides which, they weren’t men._

_The Wasteland whispers of these Four Riders, they who bring death on those who would halt the spread of Apocalypse, those three pillars of despair, those sites of ruin, those anvils on which you break yourself._

_Plague arrives first, she always arrives first, and you might not recognize her as she melds in among you, with sweet spoiled words of false hope and impossibility, of poison into ready ears. When morning comes, your camp is spoiled and barren, your bedwarmers gone, and your barracks half-emptied._

_Red-haired War follows, who smiles sweet with her offers of alliance, whose legions follow behind her in adoration and hover like a growing storm. Blood-haired War who brings War and calls War and and when you die she’ll remember you just enough to further sweep others into her wake._

_Bone-white Famine, skeletal and snarling, hangs back and counts food on her abacus knuckles, numbers wreathing to and fro as she declares your worth lacking against the scale of stored seed. When she hisses it sounds like time running out, sounds like an empty campfire from an unsuccessful ambush._

_Death who rides often behind War, skinned in night, crowned in shadow, holding Dark, a long rifle, bullets that always find their way true. When she laughs there are crows in her voice. When she rides, her bike is pale, draped in white, a ghost-cloth she names Most Beloved._

_Woe to those these Four appear. The Apocalypse will soon follow, and with them: Judgement._

“Did. Did they really think that I’m. A liar?”

“Cheedo, don’t worry about it I remember that warlord. He’s a liar himself, the whole thing’s a good riddance.”

“And it’s nice to be feared. I'm perfectly fine being known as Death. Has a good ring to it.”

“Toast!”

“It’s the truth though.”

“We’ll need to clean the story up some.”

“Maybe make it more lyrical? More historic.”

“Should I be glad that I wasn’t mentioned?” Furiosa spoke up, putting down her fork.

“Mmm, Irrevocable Judgement?” Max said with an air of amusement, “One-armed Judgement, the Last sight you will see?”

Furiosa’s mouth snapped closed and none of them could decide if her face was appalled or pleased.

 

 


End file.
